


meant to be

by twistedsky



Series: the soulmate project [2]
Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-22 22:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4853189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedsky/pseuds/twistedsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She’s only sixteen, but she knows that her father is never going to let her marry this girl, if by some sort of miracle they meet and actually fall in love. Laurel knows it’s rare that matches don’t fall in love, but she wouldn’t put it past this girl to take one look at her family and run away in the opposite direction." Laurel/Michaela soulmate AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	meant to be

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for some vague homophobia, some alcohol use, and references to canonical murder. 
> 
> I pretty much just fit the soulmate AU into canon, and then went from there.

“Oh, dear, that’s too bad,” is the response Laurel gets when her tattoo comes in, and it’s the name of a girl.

Her father mumbles under his breath in expletive-filled Spanish, and the rest of her family just watches as her mother pats her shoulder awkwardly, and sighs disappointedly.

She’s only sixteen, but she knows that her father is never going to let her marry this girl, if by some sort of miracle they meet and actually fall in love. Laurel knows it’s rare that matches don’t fall in love, but she wouldn’t put it past this girl to take one look at her family and run away in the opposite direction.

She easily goes back to focusing on more important things—like finishing high school, getting into college, and all the good things she’s going to do to outweigh the awful ones her family often does.

~~

How to Get Away With Murder has to be the most attention-grabbing class she’s signed up for. She’s halfway terrified, and halfway excited.

She’s not paying too much attention when she’s looking at the seating chart, but somehow her eyes still manage to catch her soulmate’s name: Michaela Pratt.

There's only a handful of people named Michaela Pratt in the United States as far as her research has shown, and there could be a couple more elsewhere in the world, but who knows.

The likelihood of _this_ Michaela Pratt being hers is a little terrifying—she’s got a million questions, and for now she’s just going to have to bury them.

She’s nervous, which is why she gets a little overzealous in the first class, and soon regrets it.

~~

This woman can’t be her soulmate.

They’ve both, along with a few others, been hand-picked by Annalise Keating, and that means something.

The woman’s smart, and certainly beautiful—Laurel’s attachment to the female form as well as the male had made it so that being stuck with a female soulmate hadn’t exactly been _surprising,_ okay?—but she’s not right for her, and Laurel can already tell that.

Michaela’s got an engagement ring on her finger, and her soulmate mark isn’t visible, so it’s likely that Laurel’s narrowed down the field a little bit.

“Sorry, Lauren,” Michaela says when she bumps into her. It's not the first time she's called Laurel by the wrong name, and Laurel's sure it won't be the last. 

“It’s Laurel,” she says, but Michaela doesn’t pay her much attention, just keeps staring at the case files searching for a way out for their client, and thus a way to impress Keating.

Laurel’s aware that there are awful people in this world, but at this particular moment, she’s having a hard time coming up with one that she’d want to be with less than Michaela Pratt.

~~

Her dad keeps leaving messages about finding a good husband—good breeding, good money, good political power.

Laurel knows the drill. She should, after all, since it’s been drilled into her head since she was a kid.

Laurel has no intention of actually doing what her father wants, but she might as well get what she wants in the meantime until it’s time to ruin all his plans for her.

She’s hoping to have already gotten settled post-law school by the time he realizes what she’s done.

She’ll be free and clear, and he’ll only have himself to blame.

If only, she thinks, he’d actually listened to her any of the times she’d told him what _she_ wanted.

Laurel deletes the messages, and jots off quick emails that should placate him for now.

~~

She’s not especially fond of the other members of the Keating 5, but they’re not all bad. Wes is nice, and the rest are  . . . well, they’re generally not bad at what they do, so at least there’s that.

Laurel starts sleeping with a cute legal aid, and then one of her TAs, and things quickly spiral out of control.

But sex is just sex, and it’s a release from the stresses of her daily life, and she keeps promising herself that she’s going to do better.

She’s not exactly the best person in the world.

She wants to be a good person, wants to do better, wants to make the world a better place. But at the end of the day, when it comes down to decision-making time, she tends to make the wrong ones.

She wonders if that’s an argument for nature or nurture, not that it matters since either way she’d probably end up here.

This is when it happens.

They kill someone.

Or, well, to be fair, Wes kills someone.

But they’re all there, and they’re all part of it—Connor drove them, Rebecca was trying to copy Sam’s files, and Michaela pushed him to protect Laurel.

It’s like a switch flips in Laurel’s head, and suddenly she’s the person she was always supposed to be.

She’s pretty sure it’s at least partway the person her father has always wanted her to be—cutthroat and willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done, and she wonders if he’d be proud of his little girl for stealing the engagement ring of a girl who tried to save her life just so that she can scare her into keeping quiet.

Again, she’s not especially proud of herself, but she has to do what she has to do.

They all do.

They’re a team, and if one member breaks, then they all do.

Laurel’s not going to prison, and it’s too late to pretend that this is all on Wes. They’ve all made this choice, they’ve all buried themselves so deep that the only way out of this is denial, denial, denial.

~~

Laurel doesn’t keep her name hidden like some people do.

She’s not sure why, but it gives her a perverse pleasure when her father looks at her disdainfully and tells her to cover it up.

It’s on her arm, which means that she actually gets to choose whether or not it's visible at any given moment. 

She wears a lot of long-sleeved shirts though, but that’s mostly a comfort thing. She’s not sure she’ll ever meet this girl whose name is on her arm, but she’s not even sure if she wants to anymore.

She’s helped cover up a murder, and she’s done things she didn’t know she was even capable of.

Maybe _her_ Michaela Pratt would be better off without her.

Sometimes, she catches herself staring at the Michaela she knows, the one whose ring is safely hidden away in her apartment, and she wonders if they aren’t meant for each other.

It’s possible, of course.

Laurel’s never seen her soulmate mark, and she’s certainly never asked. But Michaela’s engaged, and while some people marry people who aren’t their soulmates, it’s not as common as the people who do.

And Michaela would say something, right?

Maybe, but maybe not.

~~

“Are you okay?” Laurel asks. 

Michaela looks nervous and twitchy, but she looks like that most days ever since Murder Night.

Michaela laughs a little hysterically. “Oh, I’m just fine. Aiden and I are over, and I may get arrested for murder, because I can’t find my ring, but yeah, I’m great.”

“If you want to—“ Laurel starts to say, but Michaela silences her with a glare.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Definitely not with you.”

“Okay,” Laurel says, shrugging like she doesn’t much care.

She’s not going to prison, so she sort of does, but she can do that from a distance.

Michaela, it seems, thinks better of it.

Michaela looks back down at the pile of case files in her lap and frowns. “I just wanted to be a lawyer. Good money, prestige. I wanted a good life.”

Laurel nods, afraid that her voice will shock Michaela back to her senses, and she’ll stop talking.

It’s better that she tell Laurel, instead of the cops. _That’s_ what’s important.

And maybe Laurel’s a little curious about her, and there’s no harm in that.

“I’ve worked hard for this, and I’m not going to give it up without a fight,” Michaela looks over at Laurel then, meeting her eyes. They’re stern, and her mouth is set in a firm line.

Laurel likes this side of her, but she’s also aware that this could be dangerous for the rest of them.

~~

Rebecca might go to the police, and while that would end badly for all of them, Laurel’s having a hard time imagining a better ending to all of this than getting drunk at the bar and spilling secrets she’s tired of hiding.

When Laurel slides Michaela’s ring back across the bar, Michaela’s mouth does a comical drop.

People are always surprised by how far Laurel will go.

She’s not proud of it, not really, but it’s too late to take it back, and so all she can do is tell the truth, and let the chips fall where they may.

It’s a cliché, but clichés work for a reason.

Michaela pockets the ring, and orders another drink, without saying a word to Laurel.

~~

When she was a kid, she’d imagined some sort of happy ending—some prince that was going to come save her from her family, because he was her soulmate, and that’s what soulmates are supposed to do.

She stopped believing in fairytales before she even hit her teenage years, and she realized that the only way she was getting out was through pure power of will.

Laurel isn’t a princess in need of rescue, and she sure as hell isn’t a damsel in distress.

She’s climbing down her own trellis, building her own damn castle, whatever unnecessarily romantic metaphor you want to use.

She’s not sure if she even believes in love anymore, let alone soulmates.

How can there be a person out there who could accept everything that she is?

At her worst, Laurel’s at her best, and she needs to accept that about herself. Sooner or later she's going to have to stop pretending. 

People do horrific things for love, but those same things often tear them apart. Laurel can’t help but think about Wes and Rebecca and see them as some sort of cautionary tale.

Letting people into your heart is dangerous.

Deep down, Laurel still wants to help people, still wants to find a way to make the world a better place, but she feels so buried in murder and shit that she’s not entirely sure that’s possible.

Maybe she’s her father after all.

~~

“Rebecca’s not coming back,” Wes says to her, about two weeks after Rebecca's disappearance.

“If she were going to do something, she would have done it by now,” Laurel agrees.

She looks over at Wes, who is studying with her at her place. He’s nice, and at the end of the day he’s a good person—or, as good a person as any of them can be, considering.

She reaches out a hand and puts it over Wes’s, just setting it there gently for a few moments.

Wes nods his thanks, and smiles back at her.

She removes her hand and sighs, refocusing on her books. “I’m tired of studying,” she announces finally. “Let’s do something else. Dinner?”

Wes shrugs, “Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll order a pizza,” Laurel says, looking out of the window at the rain. “I’m not exactly in the mood to brave the big bad world today,” she jokes.

“Really? And here I thought you were always ready for that.”

Laurel doesn’t meet his eyes, just grabs her phone and clicks on her Dominos app. “Maybe,” she says. “Maybe not.”

She looks over at him then, studying him carefully. “Was Rebecca your soulmate?”

She wonders if that’s why they fell so hard so fast.

She doesn’t fall in love fast. Her heart takes a lot more care than her mind does when it wants sex.

“No,” Wes says. “But I loved her, and in the end, I don’t know if there’s a difference.”

Laurel’s never really been in love—she’s tried before, but her dad has always gotten in her way, or her own nature has cut things short before they get too far.

“You know,” Wes says, “Rebecca had Lila’s name on her.”

“What?” Laurel’s mouth falls open. “Why didn’t we use that as a defense?”

Wes shrugs. “Soulmate privacy laws still apply when you’re dead.”

Laurel nods. “But we could have gotten around that, just by having Rebecca show it off to the courtroom.”

“Not likely,” Wes smiles, almost fondly. “It wasn’t exactly in an accessible place. Plus, rare as it is, soulmates sometimes still kill each other.”

“I see,” Laurel says, barely managing not to smirk. “So what kind of pizza do you want?”

“Anything, everything,” he shrugs.

“Sounds great,” Laurel says, building the pizza.

“So what about you?” Wes asks suddenly.

“Hmm?” She’s trying to finish this up before her session times out, because she’s not going to start over again, okay?

“Have you met your soulmate?”

Laurel hesitates, freezes with her finger pressing on her phone screen.

“I don’t know,” Laurel says honestly. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Wes frowns. “How?”

Laurel decides to say screw it, and she pulls up the sleeve on her left arm, and tilts her arm so that Wes can read it.

“ _Michaela_?” Wes asks incredulously. “Really?”

“It’s probably the wrong Michaela anyway,” Laurel rationalizes. That’s what she keeps telling herself, especially when she catches herself watching Michaela, or thinking about her when she shouldn’t be.

Wes actually _snorts_. “Not likely.”

Laurel shoots a look of annoyance at him, but she can’t quite argue with him.

She’s not a fool. She’s been in denial for a while, pretending that the likelihood of them being soulmates is somehow low, but she knows better.

She’s never seen Michaela’s soulmate tattoo, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not her name.

“She’s never acted like I’m her soulmate,” Laurel points out.

Wes tilts his head to the side and smiles slightly. “Have you?”

She hasn't.

“I guess you’ll just have to ask her if you want to know,” he says, and she glares at him.

He’s not wrong.

~~

She doesn’t want to know, because at the end of the day it doesn’t really make a difference.

They’re not really friends, and Michaela halfway hates her, so it’s not like they’d even have a shot if she wanted them to. Which she doesn’t.

Plus, from the way that Michaela handled the possibility of her (now former) fiancé possibly not being straight, she’s either in heavy denial, or resoundingly straight herself.

~~

Laurel and Michaela are paired up for some assignment for one of their classes, and Michaela keeps _looking_ at her strangely.

Maybe she’s angry about the whole ring thing, but Laurel stands by that. She might have a slight twinge of guilt now and again, but she’s not going to apologize about it.

“Are we going to get this done, or are you just going to keep staring at me?” Laurel asks finally, barely clamping down on her irritation.

“I’m not staring at you,” Michaela snaps out, and Laurel opens her mouth to snap back, but instead she laughs, surprising both of them.

“Okay then,” Laurel says finally, smiling down at her textbook.

“I’m not,” Michaela insists again, but she seems a lot less angry now. It’s almost like she’s barely holding it together.

“Sure,” Laurel says, and Michaela covers her mouth with her hand, hiding a giggle.

Watching Michaela giggle is some weird kind of revelation, and suddenly she feels like a real person, instead of just Laurel’s _idea_ of what kind of person she is.

It’s rather discomforting.

Michaela struggles with her laughter, and Laurel rereads over the paper that explains their assignment.

Finally, Michaela speaks, “I’m not going to ask you why you took my ring,” Michaela says, “I don’t have to. I get it. But you surprised me.”

“I get that a lot,” Laurel says, not making eye contact.

“I underestimated you,” Michaela says softly.

Laurel looks up then, and meets her eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she says, without heat.

“You should,” Michaela says confidently, but she shifts in her seat a bit uncomfortably.

Laurel studies Michaela for a moment. “I didn’t underestimate you,” Laurel says, and Michaela looks at her sharply, like she’s insulted her. “Don’t get mad, I’m just saying that—“ Laurel sighs. “I read you pretty well initially. You’re impressive.”

Michaela smiles slightly. “I am.”

Laurel rolls her eyes. “Now, are we going to stop complimenting each other long enough to do this assignment?”

“Eh,” Michaela says, shrugging slightly, but she still refocuses her attention on the assignment.

Laurel thinks this might be the best interaction they’ve had thus far.

Progress is progress, she supposes.

~~

When she first got her tattoo, she’d really only thought of her soulmate as a way to make her family mad.

It’s not her fault that their sensibilities are so ridiculously conservative and outmoded.

She’s been avoiding the possibility that Michaela could be her soulmate, and the truth is that she still doesn’t much like to think about it.

And thus, she resolves _finally_ that it doesn’t matter.

Michaela’s attractive, and she’s smart, but Laurel doesn’t think they’re destined to be together.

There’s no overwhelming connection, no sense of rightness.

She’s nice enough, especially now that they’ve begun to become friends, but that’s all that it is.

When Laurel looks at Michaela, she doesn’t see the person she wants to spend the rest of her life with, and that’s enough for her to throw all of these worries out of the window.

She has much more important things to worry about.

~~

Asher has a party, and although he kind of hates them sometimes, they’re sort of his friends in a backwards way.

She finds herself at his party with a drink in her hand, and a mild headache coming on, but that’s probably just the music. She's not even sure it qualifies as  _music_.

Maybe it’s just chaotic noise, but Asher seems to be amused enough—he’s been dancing and humming along for the last hour, and somehow he’d managed to lose his shirt and his shoes along the way.

Somehow, Laurel’s not surprised.

She finds herself a corner and sits down with her drink, hoping to be left alone.

No such luck.

Wes wanders by with Michaela, who seems to have latched onto him in order to avoid interacting with anyone else at this party, and honestly Laurel doesn’t blame her.

Wes quickly engages them in conversation, and then detaches himself the first chance that he gets.

Michaela flops down on the window seat, pressing her back up against the wall and facing Laurel, whose drink is getting a little low.

But maybe that’s just a sign that she can leave soon.

“I grabbed a bottle,” Michaela says, holding out her bottle of vodka and offering some to Laurel.

Laurel hesitates, then holds her cup out, and Michaela pours it full to the top.

“Christ, Michaela, are you trying to give me alcohol poisoning?” Laurel asks, not unkindly.

Michaela laughs, and Laurel finally realizes that the reason for the flopping and general casualness of her demeanor is that she’s totally shitfaced.

Laurel’s seen her drunk, but she’s never quite seen her lose control.

She’s almost curious to see what might happen.

“Nice dress,” Michaela says then, eyeing her name on Laurel’s arm with an impassive face.

“Thanks,” Laurel says, “Nice—“ Laurel gestures generally at Michaela’s outfit. “Outfit,” she decides on eventually.

“It’s nothing special,” Michaela says, and it's clear that she's starting to slur her speech. There’s almost a twang there that Laurel can’t quite place. Laurel files that away for later and focuses on the moment.

“You look nice,” Laurel says, shrugging slightly, not sure what else she’s supposed to say.

It’s so awkward between them, and Laurel is further convinced that Michaela isn’t her soulmate.

And if she is, then Laurel’s not going to keep putting any stock in the whole idea of soulmates.

“Why didn’t you ever ask me?” Michaela asks suddenly, and Laurel frowns.

“What?” Laurel’s genuinely confused, and not quite following whatever logic Michaela is.

Michaela holds up her own arm and nods toward Laurel.

Laurel scrunches her face together, “Ahh, I don’t think—“ She’d really rather not talk about this. It’s awkward, and uncomfortable, and it’s much easier just to ignore the whole idea.

Michaela leans forward onto her knees and props herself up with her arms, staring at Laurel.

Michaela reaches out to grab Laurel’s arm, gently tracing her finger along the curve of her own name. “My name is on you,” Michaela says, “Don’t you wonder if that makes you mine?”

Michaela smiles slightly, her lips curved up in a half-smile that’s probably alcohol-induced more than anything else.

Michaela’s a touchy-feely sort of drunk, it seems.

Laurel’s unnerved by the way Michaela’s touching her arm, but she’s not exactly uncomfortable, so she doesn’t pull away.

“I don’t put much stock in soulmates,” Laurel says.

“Especially if I’m supposed to be yours?” Michaela asks, and Laurel winces.

Michaela laughs, looking up and meeting Laurel’s eyes. “It’s okay,” Michaela says, “Soulmates are for amateurs,” she adds, then drops Laurel’s arm and scoots back, picking back up her bottle of vodka.

“Yup,” Laurel says, because it’s easy to agree.

Michaela drinks right from her bottle, and Laurel sips at her own drink.

They sit there quietly, in silence, for the better part of an hour before Asher appears and grabs Michaela’s arm, pulling her off to show her the cute guy from one of his classes that he thought she might like.

Laurel’s not sure when Asher appointed himself a matchmaker, but he’s trying, she guesses.

It takes Laurel a while to realize that she never actually asked if the name hidden somewhere on Michaela’s body is her own, and Michaela never offered up that information.

She wonders if that means something, or if it doesn’t mean anything at all.

She decides on the latter, and falls asleep trying to block the memory of Asher’s awful taste in music out of her mind.

~~

Midterms are coming up, and Laurel’s completely drained.

It’s a good thing she gave up on casual sex, because she barely has time to sleep and eat, let alone fuck.

Maybe they’re too tired to argue(definitely not true), but for some reason the Keating 5 are practically their own study group.

Maybe it’s easier than the alternative, or maybe they’ve been working together long enough that it seems foolish to act like they shouldn’t.

Asher’s kind of a cheat sometimes, and Connor’s an asshole, but they all pretty much are.

Wes looks like he’s about to start pulling hair out of his head, because he’s that stressed.

“Maybe you should hook up with Frank again, and try to get the test questions,” Connor suggests, and Laurel sends him a withering glare.

“You hooked up with Frank?” Asher asks, perking up immediately.

“Shut up, Asher,” Wes says, rolling his eyes.

“Do you think that would work?” Asher asks, totally ignoring him.

“I don’t know,” Michaela cuts in. “Maybe you should ask Bonnie.”

Laurel stifles a laugh, and Connor smirks.

It's oddly nice.

~~

Michaela shows up at Laurel's apartment with a bunch of dresses draped over one arm and shoes in her other hand.

“What are you doing here?” Laurel asks.

Michaela rolls her eyes and pushes past her.

“Ever since—“ Michaela sighs, because they’ve sworn to stop referencing _the_ night, whether they’re in public or not, because it’s not like any of them want to go to jail. “Well, I haven’t been as friendly with my female friends as before, and I have a date tonight with a med student, and I’m trying to make a good impression. You’re the only girl I could think of.”

“I’m so flattered,” Laurel says wryly. “You couldn’t figure out an outfit on your own?”

Michaela’s smile falters, and Laurel can practically see the inner war over whether to tell her the truth. “I don’t like being alone all the time,” she says finally. “I thought it might be fun to do girl stuff together. We’re sort of friends, right?” Michaela laughs. “Or, at least, even if I don’t quite trust you, you’re the closest thing to a friend I actually have right now.”

Laurel’s not sure if she’s being genuine, or trying to guilt her into some weird sort of quasi-friendship, but the thought of it is _nice_ , and so she thinks that might be what she wants.

“So, are you going to help or not?” Michaela lifts a perfect eyebrow.

“Well, we have to make sure you make a good impression on your cute doctor,” she says. “What kind of person would I be if I didn’t help a friend in need?” she asks, and it’s a little mocking, but all in good humor.

Michaela smiles, having gotten exactly what she wanted. “Not a very good one,” she replies.

~~

It becomes a _thing_ —they’re friends now, or at least as close to friends as they can possibly be considering everything that’s happened.

Laurel’s never been very good at making close friends, and it seems that murder is apparently the way to seal the deal.

Laurel wonders if Michaela is testing her sometimes—maybe looking for weaknesses to exploit, or ways to manipulate her into coming around to her side of things if this all goes south. But it’s been months, and the cops’ trail is running cold, and they might actually get away with murder.

It’s kind of funny, or maybe just ironic, and Laurel feels _different,_ like this is the person she was always supposed to be.

She’s terrified by that idea, but there’s always been metal in her bones, and it’s like it went from liquid to solid state, and there’s something empowering about that too.

She doesn’t intend to go around covering up murders, but she thinks she’s learned something about herself from all of this anyway.

She wonders if Michaela feels the same way, or if she just feels the crippling fear(which, yes, Laurel still feels sometimes).

Laurel doesn’t exactly ask her this over coffee, or over study sessions, or when they’re working on a case for Annalise.

Maybe, she thinks, when they’re better friends.

~~

Michaela’s totally drunk after an end of the semester party one night, and Laurel’s place is closer, so Laurel takes her home and dumps her in her bed after giving her something to change into.

“I’m not going to be chivalrous and sleep on the couch,” Laurel says with a shrug, plopping down onto the side of the bed that Michaela’s currently not taking up.

“It’s your bed,” Michaela says, and her voice is a little less slurred than before, but not by much.

Laurel pulls her covers up and tries to get comfortable.

She falls asleep pretty quickly, because she’s exhausted beyond belief—not just from the stress of the past year, or the stress awaiting her at home for the summer, because her father is expecting her to intern at one of his associate’s law firm, or even the stress of finals.

It’s just everything and nothing in particular all at once.

She wakes up a little while later, not even entirely sure that she’s awake at first.

A few seconds later, she’s distracted by a weird sensation, which at first makes her think she has to pee until she realizes that it’s coming from her arm.

Her eyes flutter open, and she finds Michaela stroking her own name on Laurel’s arm.

Michaela looks up from Laurel’s arm, but keeps tracing around the letters. “I don’t want to go home,” Michaela says suddenly, surprising Laurel.

“Why not?” Laurel asks.

Michaela sighs, and then gazes at Laurel appraisingly, as if looking for something.

“There’s not much to go home to,” Michaela admits, and Laurel thinks she might understand that.

She has family, but they’re not exactly loving or inviting people. They don’t feel like _home_ , Laurel thinks.

“I feel that way about my family sometimes,” Laurel says, even though it’s more like every time, without fail.

“Really?” Michaela asks softly, looking back down at her finger tracing her name on Laurel’s arm.

“Yeah,” Laurel says, and barely suppresses a sigh.

“My family’s just . . . “ Michaela stops stroking Laurel’s arm. “I’ve worked really hard to get away from them, and since my internship doesn’t start for another month, and my lease on my apartment is up—“

“You could come home with me,” Laurel offers, surprising both of them.

“What?” Michaela asks, sounding surprised. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” Laurel says, “They’ll be furious, especially once you tell them your name.”

Michaela hesitates, “Laurel—“

“It doesn’t even matter if you’re not my soulmate, because they’ll think that you are. You can hang out at the beach, and my family’s got an amazing cook, and an even better selection of wines.” Suddenly, Laurel thinks this feels like a perfect idea.

“That sounds really nice,” Michaela hedges, “But I don’t want to go where I’m not wanted.”

“It’ll be fun,” Laurel pleads, slightly. “You’ll torture them. And you won’t be unwanted—I want you there,” she says, and she feels a little like she’s been slapped in the face from the force of how true that feels.

It’ll be nice to have a friend there, and it’ll make the time go a little easier.

“You do?” Michaela sounds pleasantly surprised, and there’s something soft and un-Michaela-like about it, “I mean,” she says more firmly, more confidently, “Of course you do, I’m great.”

“You are,” Laurel says, and it’s meant to be airy and friendly, but the words just hang heavily between them.

“I’ll think about it,” Michaela says, and that’s that.

Michaela’s hand is still on top of Laurel’s arm, and she traces her name one last time before pulling away.

The silence feels like it’s extending forever, and the pressure is unbearable, and so Laurel breaks.

“Hey, Michaela?” Laurel whispers softly.

“Yeah?” Michaela grunts, clearly halfway asleep.

“Whose name are you hiding?”

Laurel wonders if she should ask that, if she’s made a mistake and overplayed her hand.

Michaela chuckles. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says, but her words are warm and kind as much as they’re teasing.

Yeah, Laurel thinks, she would, but clearly there’s no point in pressing, and so she closes her eyes and waits to fall asleep.

~~

In the morning, Michaela’s grumpy, but somehow that doesn’t surprise Laurel.

She’s not much of a morning person either, but Michaela’s barely conscious, even once Laurel puts a cup of coffee in her hands.

Michaela holds her coffee, as if waiting for the strength of it to seep through into her hands, and then the rest of her body. She fortifies herself, and then takes a sip, somehow smiling and wincing at the same time.

Laurel sips her own and sits comfortably in her chair at her kitchen table, watching Michaela slowly inch toward being suitable for human interaction.

“Thank you,” Michaela says, finally meeting Laurel’s eyes. “For everything.”

Laurel nods, but Michaela’s not finished.

“If you’re serious about the invitation—“ Michaela hesitates, “Which I’m sure you aren’t, because you offered at 4 am—“

“Yes,” Laurel interrupts. “I’m serious,” and she’s surprised by her own vehemence.

Michaela’s face flickers, and she smiles broadly for one brief moment before she composes herself and allows a nice, _appropriate_ sort of smile. “I’d like to take you up on that,” Michaela says.

Her family’s going to hate this, Laurel knows, and she can’t help but smile.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Laurel says, and she’s honestly not sure which one of them is doing the other the bigger favor.

~~

“This is Michaela Pratt,” Laurel introduces her, and the looks on her parents’ faces are _exactly_ what she wanted to see.

Her mother looks stern, and her father looks angry(and then later, resigned).

Her cousin Grace is actually decent, and shakes Michaela’s hand with a twinkle in her eye.

“We’ll have to hang out,” Grace exclaims, turning to face Laurel and giving her a tight hug.

“Of course,” Laurel says, because Grace’s parents think that she’s a bad influence on Grace, and that’s _exactly_ what Grace loves most about her, Laurel’s sure.

Laurel turns to smile at Michaela and doesn’t even pretend to do anything to indicate that they’re a couple.

She doesn’t have to. Her simple presence is enough, and Laurel adores her for it.

When they get up to Laurel’s bedroom and start unpacking, Michaela surprises her by laughing.

“Your family did not look happy to see me,” Michaela says, with an amused grin on her face.

“Of course they weren’t,” Laurel says, smiling back at her. “I think they were hoping it was supposed to be _Michael_ , and that one day I’d show up with a guy.”

“Will you?” Michaela asks then, unzipping one of her suitcases and starting to go through it.

Laurel hesitates. “Maybe, one day. I’m not very good at love.”

Michaela snorts. “I’m not sure anyone is,” she says. Her smile falters, and she stops unpacking for a moment. “I’m definitely not,” she admits.

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right person yet,” Laurel points out, and she swears she sounds like a hypocrite, but Michaela doesn’t call her on it.

“So,” Michaela says, “You promised me a beach?”

“We should probably wait for tomorrow,” Laurel says apologetically. “My family always does a big dinner when I come home from school, and missing it probably wouldn’t end all that well.”

Michaela shrugs. “There’s always tomorrow,” she says, and Laurel nods.

“Absolutely,” Laurel says, “Tomorrow. I promise.”

Michaela looks back down at her suitcase and smiles. “In the meantime, I’ll wear something _hot_ for dinner.”

Laurel can’t help but smile. “I’m sure they’ll love that.”

~~

Laurel’s grandmother takes to Michaela almost immediately.

“This is a pretty one,” her nana says, “You should keep her,” she says to Laurel.

Laurel smiles. “She’s very pretty,” she says dutifully, and Michaela smirks sideways at her, clearly amused.

Her father frowns at her, and Michaela smiles straight at him and places her hand on top of Laurel’s hand for a moment, holding his gaze.

“Laurel’s very beautiful too,” Michaela says, “And very accomplished. You must be very proud, Mr. Castillo.”

Her father doesn’t respond. He just keeps frowning at Michaela, as if trying to force her to look away, but she doesn’t. She holds his gaze, and then picks up Laurel’s hand and kisses the back of it.

Her father blinks, and Laurel’s grandmother hides a snort.

Laurel looks at her grandmother, who just smiles back serenely.

“We’re very proud of Laurel,” Laurel’s mother says then, but it’s forced, and they all know that.

“Thank you,” Laurel says, “It’s always nice to receive some positive reinforcement,” she says wryly.

Her mother certainly doesn’t _soften_ at Laurel’s words, but she forces a smile.

“Will you two—“ her mother clears her throat, and winces, like she’s in unbearable pain. “Will you two be getting married?”

Michaela coughs and pats her chest, and Laurel thanks god that she was sipping water instead of her wine.

“It’s too soon to tell,” Laurel replies. “We haven’t known each other very long.”

“But you’re soulmates,” Laurel’s grandmother butts in. “It rarely takes long.”

Laurel’s not sure what to say to that, and so she just shoves a bite of food into her mouth, and then washes it down by finishing off her glass of wine and requesting more.

“This woman likely isn’t Laurel’s soulmate at all,” Laurel’s father says suddenly, then mutters under his breath in Spanish that Laurel _definitely_  doesn’t like. “She’s probably hired a girl to pose as her soulmate to disrupt our family, as is her way.”

“Laurel wouldn’t do that,” Laurel’s mother objects, but she doesn’t look like she believes it.

“She made that scene at Christmas,” her father points out. “And there was that boy she brought home after her freshman year at college. Can we really put anything past her?”

Michaela stands up then, and pulls up her shirt and lifts her bra slightly to show the underside of her left breast.

And there it is: _Laurel Castillo_.

Laurel somehow feels vindicated. She lifts her refilled glass of wine. “I’d like to make a toast,” she says, and her grandmother laughs and looks like she wants to start clapping.

“To love,” Laurel says, “That which we get from our families,” she gives her mother and father careful, challenging looks, “And our soulmates,” she finishes.

~~

Laurel and Michaela laugh all the way back to Laurel’s room.

Laurel grabs a bottle of wine on the way up, and uses the wine opener she always keeps handy in the room for just these occasions.

“I see you’re always prepared,” Michaela says, smiling at her while Laurel pours wine into the glasses she _also_  keeps in her room.

“For drinking?” Michaela nods. “Always,” Laurel says with a broad, happy smile.

“That was more fun than I’d expected it would be,” Michaela says, taking a sip of the wine and closing her eyes. “Wow, this is good.”

“It better be,” Laurel says, “I’m glad you came,” Laurel tells her, sitting down on the bed next to her. “And I—“ she hesitates then, not sure what to say about the name on Michaela’s breast.

“It’s not a big deal,” Michaela says, “We don’t have to talk about it.”

 _Maybe we should_ , Laurel wants to say, but she doesn’t.

Instead, she shrugs, and takes a long sip of her wine.

She’s pleasantly tipsy, and happy enough that she feels a little like she’s floating. She decides to enjoy the experience.

~~

The next day, Laurel gives Michaela the grand tour, and they decide to visit the beach the day after.

It’s a beautiful place, and Laurel forgets that sometimes, because her family weighs so heavily on her spirit.

But today, Laurel doesn’t run into her parents once, and now that the obligatory family dinner is over with, she and Michaela can avoid them at all costs.

At least, that’s the plan.

“Oh, Laurel,” Laurel hears her grandmother say, “Come keep me company with your sweet girlfriend.”

“Oh, we can’t—“ Laurel starts to say, but then Michaela interrupts her.

“We’d love to,” she says, and takes Laurel’s grandmother’s arm, and they walk off to where her grandmother likes to have tea.

 _Tea_ is actually mimosas and chocolate chip cookies today, and Laurel certainly can’t turn that down, so she sits and drinks and eats way more cookies than she should.

Michaela, on the other hand, talks rapidly with Laurel's grandmother, and Laurel realizes why there’s something vaguely comforting about Michaela.

Michaela’s vicious and cutthroat, but she’s also sweet and funny, and a lot like Laurel’s grandmother.

This should be weird or gross, but instead it stirs something inside of Laurel, and her chest feels warm.

It’s nice.

~~

A week later, they still haven’t gone to the beach, because Michaela’s spent all day, every day with Laurel’s grandmother— they chatter at each other, like busy little birds, and Laurel goes off to intern with her dad's friend.

“You remind me so much of my grandmother,” Michaela says one day, “I’m so glad to have met you,” Michaela says, and Laurel looks up from her lap full of files to see Michaela giving her grandmother a hug.

They’ve bonded, so the affection isn’t what’s surprisingly.

It’s just that there’s—there’s depth in those words, something incredibly genuine.

Laurel hasn’t exactly been present for many of Michaela’s genuinely happy moments. In fact, she’s been present for a few of the worst, and she can’t deny that she’s actually caused at least one of them.

But here Michaela is, almost brimming with happiness, like she’s ready to overflow, and Laurel’s not quite jealous, exactly.

She’s _something_ , though, that she can’t put her finger on.

~~

They finally go to the beach after a morning of bikini shopping, and then Laurel figures it out.

Maybe it’s some weird sort of destiny-kismet nonsense, or maybe it’s just because they’ve been through a lot, and Michaela’s _gorgeous_ , but Laurel’s attracted to her.

It’s nothing especially deep or meaningful, Laurel assures herself.

They’re friends, and Michaela’s attractive. That's all this is.

Michaela screeches when Laurel scoops and splashes water at her before she’s ready to fully submerge herself in the water, and Laurel can’t help but laugh.

Michaela pounces on her then, surprising Laurel enough that she topples over, and they both fall into the water.

Michaela seems unaffected, but Laurel vows to be more careful, especially with her heart.

The last thing she needs is a deep emotional attachment to Michaela. 

It can’t end well, and the truth is that Laurel wouldn’t even want it to. She’s not interested in a real relationship, and she never really has been.

But this is a friendship, she assures herself.

She neglects to remember that she’s never been all that great at friendship either.

~~

There’s something achingly intimate about sharing a bed with someone that you’re even mildly attracted to.

Laurel steadies her breathing, because she’s learned that Michaela’s a light sleeper, and the last thing she wants is for Michaela to wake up and see Laurel staring at her.

Which, of course, she is.

She keeps meaning to look away or close her eyes, but she can’t seem to manage it.

In the darkness she can only see the barest of Michaela’s features in the moonlight streaking in through the window.

She rolls over on her back, because the last thing she needs is to stare at Michaela all night.

She tilts her head back toward Michaela and sighs.

She’s going to have to rip these feelings out by the roots.

~~

Grace invites them out to a party, and Laurel’s ready to say no, but then Michaela accepts before she gets the words out.

Laurel doesn’t mind. She’s already annoyed her parents, and now Michaela’s just hanging out and having fun before she goes back to Middleton.

This is simply her part of the deal, and Laurel’s just keeping up her end of the bargain.

This, at least, is what she tells herself when she follows Michaela around, trying to make sure she has the best time everywhere they go.

This party is unpredictable, however, because Laurel knows Grace.

It could end up being some sort of poetry reading, or it could rival a college party in terms of the amount of alcohol and drugs present.

It turns out to be a mix, and there’s too much alcohol and a series of body paint stations.

Grace strips down to her bra and panties and grabs Michaela’s hand, pulling her along.

Laurel watches Michaela get a unicorn on her back, a flower on her stomach and a haphazard dragon on her left thigh.

Laurel watches the boy who paints the dragon a little jealously, and she’s not proud of it.

She strips off her own clothes when Grace pouts at her, and the next thing she knows she’s got about fifteen hearts from the less artistic members of the party who attack her with their paintbrushes, and a really nice kitten on her chest. There’s an Eiffel Tower on the outside of her right leg, but she’s not _entirely_ sure that’s what it’s supposed to be.

Grace hands her and Michaela another round of drinks and shoves them off to have fun.

They find an abandoned set of paints—which isn’t that hard, because they’re all over the place—and they decide to sit down.

“I want something on my face,” Michaela says, sitting down in front of Laurel and leaning close, closing her eyes.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Laurel says, plainly amused.

Michaela’s eyes flutter open, and she smiles, and something goes warm Laurel’s stomach and her chest clenches uncomfortably. “Please?” she asks, tilting her head to the side and using that perfectly beautiful face to get exactly what she wants.

Unsurprisingly, it works.

Laurel picks up the paint brush, and has to force herself to calm down so that her hands don’t shake.

If she can carry a body, then she can paint Michaela’s face.

She keeps her hands perfectly calm and paints a simple happy face in a bright yellow on Michaela’s left cheek.

Michaela just keeps smiling at her and turns so that Laurel can do the other cheek. “Do something different on this one,” she says, and she seems so relaxed and unlike the Michaela that Laurel has known that it unnerves her.

“You seem so happy,” Laurel says then, painting a purple heart on Michaela’s other cheek. She fills it in slowly, so that she can keep looking at Michaela.

“I am,” Michaela replies. “I made a vow,” she declares. “I can’t be stressed and unhappy forever, even if the other shoe can drop at any time. I need to live my life, and enjoy this vacation from the worries of law school and—“ her voice falters, “—everything else.” Michaela’s eyes flutter open. “Thank you, Laurel,” she says.

“Thank you,” Laurel says back. “I’m glad you came,” she continues, keeping her voice level and damming the emotions that threaten to spill over at such a simple admission. “There,” she says, pulling away the paintbrush. “Perfect.”

Michaela tilts her head to look at a mirror on the wall and nods her head, happy enough.

“Let me do you,” she says, picking the paintbrush up and getting a devilish look in her eyes.

~~

The night before Michaela leaves they stay up doing simple, relaxing things, like painting each other’s nails and giggling over a silly superhero movie.

They wait till they’re done with the nail polish before they pull out the wine, and they lean back against the pillows on Laurel’s bed.

Michaela’s head leans against Laurel’s arm, and Laurel just barely manages not to start with surprise.

“Thank you,” Michaela says. “I know I’ve thanked you before, but this has been—“ she takes a deep breath. “Perfect.”

“You could stay longer,” Laurel says without thinking. “It could be fun.”

Laurel can’t see Michaela’s face, so she’s not sure what her response might be.

Maybe she’s too easy to read, and she’s overflowing with vulnerability, and she’s completely screwed herself.

Or maybe not.

“I appreciate the offer,” Michaela says, “But I have to get back.”

Laurel doesn’t press the subject, simply grabs her glass of wine and takes a sip, wishing it were something stronger, because she’s being ridiculous.

She doesn’t like this feeling, and it needs to stop.

She’s not needy, or controlled by her emotions. She’s been known to be reckless, yes, and occasionally self-destructive, but she’s not supposed to be emotionally vulnerable. She doesn’t let people in, not like that.

It’s not safe, and it won’t end well.

There’s too much darkness between herself and Michaela for that to ever be a good idea, no matter how much fun they can have, or how happy they can be.

~~

Laurel wakes up late the next morning, but she doesn’t have to take Michaela to the airport until early in the evening, so it’s not a big deal.

Michaela, however, is currently missing, so that might be.

Laurel looks down at her soulmate mark, and rubs it with her hand.

Maybe, she thinks, it was a warning.

And if it was, she definitely didn’t heed it.

Laurel gets dressed, and notes that Michaela’s things are all packed, but still present, which means she’s probably off saying goodbye to Grace or Laurel’s grandmother.

Laurel yawns and heads off to find Michaela, because she can’t seem to stop herself.

Laurel finds Michaela talking to her grandmother.

They look very serious, and Laurel stops where she is, watching them carefully.

Michaela goes in for a hug, and Laurel can see her grandmother smiling, and so Laurel walks closer.

They’ve really developed a friendship, Laurel thinks. It’s surprisingly nice.

“Hey,” Laurel says when she gets closer.

Michaela looks like she almost jumps for a moment, but if she does then she covers so well that Laurel can’t really tell.

There’s something a bit inauthentic about her smile, but that could just be that she’s just said goodbye to Laurel’s grandmother and she’s emotional, or that she’s a little hungover, if she dipped too heavily into the wine the night before. It could be any number of things, and so Laurel dismisses the thought.

“Hey,” Michaela says, “I thought we could get lunch and then head to the airport.”

“It’s still early,” Laurel says, but Michaela makes a face.

“I know, but it’s better to be safe than sorry,” Michaela says. She gives Laurel’s grandmother one last smile, and then one last hug, and then turns to Laurel. “Ready?”

“Sure,” Laurel says, and there’s something strange in Michaela’s eyes, but Laurel’s not sure what it is.

Maybe she’s second-guessing her decision to go home today, or maybe she’s just already back in her Middleton mentality. It’s more likely the later, and Laurel gets that. She needs to start redirecting her focus to law school too.

When they get to the restaurant, Michaela’s surprisingly quiet, and Laurel’s stuck in her thoughts, and so they don’t make much conversation.

It’s awkward, and it reminds Laurel of their earlier interactions. That might just be a coincidence, or it could be more meaningful. Laurel’s not sure, and she doesn’t want to examine the thought too carefully.

She looks down at her arm and stares at _Michaela Pratt_.

She’s being ridiculous.

~~

At the airport, Michaela turns to her and breathes in deeply, like she’s trying to get up the courage for something, with makes Laurel tense up, because it can’t possibly be a good thing.

Michaela smiles. “I’ve had a great time,” she says, and Laurel’s tension eases slightly. “I loved every moment of it—even trying to mess with your parents. It was a lot of fun. And a big part of that is you,” Michaela says, and her face grows a bit more serious.

“I had a great time too,” Laurel says, not quite sure where this is going.

“I know we didn’t talk about the whole soulmate thing,” Michaela says, “Mostly, because it’s not a big deal to me. I don’t make decisions based off of destiny or any of that nonsense. I’m my own person.”

Laurel nods. “Yeah, me too.”

“But,” Michaela says, and she looks around pretty much everywhere except at Michaela. Eventually, she forces her gaze back to Laurel. “I don’t know how to say this.”

“Okay,” Laurel says. She’s torn between telling her to just say it, and telling her that she doesn’t have to. She means to say something, but instead she searches for words, and finds none.

She says nothing.

Michaela takes another deep breath, and this time she leans forward and kisses Laurel. Her lips are soft and supple, and Laurel feels like her heart has risen to her mouth, and it’s pouring out all of her secrets and her emotions right into Michaela.

When Michaela finally pulls away, Laurel feels dizzy, and a little amazed.

“I have to go,” Michaela says, and Laurel thinks she sounds apologetic, but that might just be wishful thinking.

“Okay,” Laurel says, and she wants to slap herself, doesn’t she have anything _else_ to say? _Anything_.

Michaela gives her one last careful look, and then turns to make her way through airport security.

Laurel breathes in deeply.

Well, she has no idea what she’s supposed to do now.

~~

She can’t stop thinking about Michaela, and she’s struggling to wish that she could.

Things weren’t supposed to go this way.

She doesn’t talk to Michaela for the rest of the summer—sees pictures of her new apartment on facebook and almost likes a few of them.

When she finally gets back to school and settles back in, she’s distracted by the realization that there’s no need for her to actually see Michaela, unless they’re genuinely friends.

Three days into the new semester, she gets a text message from Michaela, inviting her over for dinner with the rest of the Keating 5.

Laurel’s not sure what she’s supposed to do with that, but she texts her RSVP, and rips the napkin in her hands to shreds.

~~

She wonders how Michaela’s going to play this—hell, she wonders how _she’s_ going to play this.

A kiss is just a kiss, except when it’s not.

When she lays eyes on Michaela, something inside of her shifts, and she feels a burst of joy despite herself. She’s happy to see her, and pretending that’s not the case isn’t worth the lie.

Michaela gives her a half hug, “Good to see you, Laurel,” she says, her eyes sparkling.

Laurel’s not sure how to read that, and so she nods her agreement.

Michaela stares at her awkwardly for a moment, just smiling and holding the bottle of wine that Laurel had handed to her, until someone comes up behind Laurel.

“Michaela, Laurel,” Wes turns to each of them and greets them.

Thus ruins Laurel’s opportunity to ask Michaela what their kiss had been about, if she’d been brave, or to dig for information if she wasn’t.

~~

Asher drinks too much and starts singing and dancing, and Laurel’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be doing either of those things, because he’s definitely not very good. Laurel rolls her eyes good-naturedly, and watches as Connor tells Michaela and Wes animatedly about his boyfriend Oliver.

Laurel’s a little surprised that that relationship still exists. She’s oddly glad that it still is, because Oliver is good for Connor, and Laurel has a vested interest in his well-being. She has a vested interest in all of their well-beings, because the more stable and happy they seem to be, the less likely they are to spiral out of control.

She never has to worry about Asher though, for which she’s grateful. If he had been in that house instead of outside of it, she’s not sure they would have gotten through the whole ordeal. 

Wes leaves first, because he’s got an internship, and he has to be there bright and early the next day. Connor leaves soon after, because he has to pick up something for Oliver on his way home.

The kindness in Connor surprises Laurel, but pleases her too.

Laurel and Michaela meet each other’s gazes while Asher rambles on happily about his summer internship.

Eventually, Asher seems to tire, and he gives them each a big bear hug and proclaims that he’s leaving, because he has a lady waiting for him.

When Michaela closes the door behind him, Laurel stands a few feet behind her, waiting.

She looks down at Michaela’s name, and thinks she’d probably still be in this position even if soulmates didn’t exist.

She looks up to see Michaela gazing at her.

“Hey,” Laurel says, “I should go,” she says, but it almost feels like a question, a query she wants Michaela to answer.

“Should you?” Michaela asks, the sides of her mouth curving up into a slight smile.

Laurel cocks her head to the side, slightly. “It’s a little hard to tell,” she mock whispers.

Laurel swears she’s being pulled forward, toward Michaela, because the next thing she knows, her lips are on Michaela’s, and Michaela’s hands are in her hair, holding the two of them tightly together.

Laurel feels breathless, and more than a little dizzy from the rush of heat and _want_ that threatens to consume her.

Laurel pulls back slightly, leaning her forehead against Michaela’s. She breathes in deeply, trying to catch her breath and steady the beat of her heart, which feels a little out of control. “Are we doing this?” she asks.

“I’m not opposed to it,” Michaela says, and there’s a smile in her words.

“Okay,” Laurel says, and moves to capture Michaela’s lips once more.

Michaela gently pulls her along to her bedroom, and nudges her gently onto her bed. Laurel falls, dragging Michaela down with her.

~~

After, when they're lying in bed and staring off into space, Laurel feels Michaela reach out and start trailing her fingers around her name on Laurel's arm.

"It almost makes you want to believe in destiny," Michaela says lightly.

"I've never understood destiny," Laurel admits. "Things happen the way that they do, and I've never quite understood the difference between 'meant to be' and 'going to happen, because that's just how things are.'"

Michaela's quiet then, but she doesn't stop tracing her name. "Either way," Michaela says then, "We're here together, you and me."

"Yeah," Laurel agrees, and her heart feels shockingly full. "You and me," she repeats.

It's a nice thought, destiny or not.


End file.
